Un Imprint from le Portabello Mushroom Named Bob?
by thebubblesareafterme
Summary: Set after “Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers”. Featuring Dave the Laugh, Masimo, Gordy, the Ace Gang, Libby, and her fwends. Lots of tres entertaining phone conversations, issues with boy entrancers, and best of all, more georgia! [ridiculously long oneshot]


**I Have an Imprint from a Portabella Mushroom Named Bob in My Cheek**

Summary: Set after "Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers". Featuring Dave the Laugh, Masimo, Gordy, the Ace Gang, Libby, and her fwends. Lots of tres entertaining phone conversations, issues with boy entrancers, and best of all, more GEORGIA!

**Saturday June 18**

**12:30 a.m.**

**in my room. thinking.**

How can people stand to think so much? It is tres painful. That is what it is.

**three minutes later**

Well, I have done it. I have asked Masimo to make le grande decision- to be or not to be Georgia's boyfriend. I have followed the instructions of my mum. And they may even help me. Possibly.

**two minutes later**

But what will happen if the gorgey-est person of the Italian type in the universe boy kind says no? I will die. But then there's always Dave the Laugh. No. I must not think about that.

**three minutes later**

You know when you're trying not to think of something?

**ten minutes later**

Well, it doesn't work. He's so funny and…

**five minutes later**

… he can NIP LIBBLE. Masimo can't nip libble. He is ignorant in the art of nip libbling. Would I really want to spend the rest of my life with a person without the capacity to nip libble! Oh, merde. And triple poo.

**1 p.m.**

Phoned Jas. Can't take this anymore. Must talk to someone about my life of utter craposity.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour."

"Can I talk to you for a moment? This is a matter of tres tres magnifique importance."

"Oh, but Tom and I were just going to go and look at some slug-"

"Po, I don't care what you and Hunky were going to do, I need to talk to you about my life and my problems and if you want to remain my best pally in all of England, FERMEZ LE BOUCHE AND LISTEN."

She slammed the phone down.

**1:02 p.m.**

She can't treat me like that. I won't stand for it. She is my ex-best pally. I will never speak to her again.

**1:07 p.m.**

Phoned Po again.

"Jas…"

"What? I am really busy."

"Jas, I'm sorry if I thought my problems were more important than slugs, will you please forgive me?"

"It depends."

"I can bring you un petite et delicieux Jammy Dodger tomorrow."

"Okay"

So much for morals and crap like that. I begin to worry about our society in moments like this. Ho hum, pig's bum.

Jas had been rambling on and on about her trip to the woodlands of England with Hunky (i.e. the Jennings' backyard) (Which I had never seen) (Why can Jas go there and not me? Don't I have just as much of a right to the Jennings' backyard as the used-to-be girlfriend of a Sex God?) but I had not been paying any attention. To atone for my grievous error, I decided to let her continue.

**1:39 p.m.**

Jas still mumbling about rabbits and the like. Will she ever shut up? I really need to go to the piddly diddly department.

**1:48 p.m.**

I can't take this anymore. Interrupted Jas.

"Jas, I your gerbils and muskrats are of course vair vair interestink, but I really need to go to the piddly diddly department."  
"Gee, if you were more concerned with our environment and the world, then your animalistic needs would not trouble you so. I hope that you can understand that and will, in the future, stop obsessing over your own, self centered-"  
I slammed the phone down. For the second time.

**1:52 p.m.**

This is the last time I will be calling my rabbit-loving pal. If she does not listen to me, I will have a dither spaz to end all dither spazzes. And I do mean it. That is why I said it.

"JAS."

"GEORGIA."

"Look, can I PLEASE tell you about my problems, they are really… important. And I am sorry I slammed the phone down on you."  
"Is there anything else you want to say?"  
"I'm sorry Jas, but I am not going to start on the love business again."  
"You made me do it."

Long Pause.

"FINE."

"Say it then. Say, "Jas, I love you, and you are my best pal in the entire universe."

"Jas, I.. love you and you are my best pal in the entire universe. NOW CAN I TALK?"

"Of course. Please procedez."

"Merci."

At this moment, Vati bounded in my room (without knocking, of course, reminding me of how much I need a lock), and told me in no uncertain terms that if I don't get off the phone within the next fifteen seconds, there will be no more pocket money por moi.

"AAARGH. Jas. Can you meet me at homework club at five? In fact, call the Ace Gang. Except for Ellen. Remember that. And tell Rosie NOT to bring Sven."  
"PAAAARTY!"

I brutally slammed the phone down for the third time. Vati looked at me from under his raised (and vair vair grande) eyebrows.

**in my room**

What should I wear? My pink and black skirt looks okay… and I can wear my grey V-necked top. Right.

**in the bathroom**

Started on beautiosity regime. Though I have no idea why. It's not like there will be any blokes there. How tres pathetique I have become.

**one minute later**

But how could I possibly go anywhere in public without just a hint of natural makeup?

**Three minutes later**

Have started cleansing and toning. Exfoliating will have to wait. I cannot allow myself to become vain.

**Two minutes later**

OHMYGOD I HAVE A LURKER. It is monstrously huge. It is growing out of the universe of the normal sized and into the valley of the simply enormous.

**2:40 p.m.**

What should I do?

**2:45 p.m.**

I have an idea. I shall very very carefully apply mum's blusher to it. Hopefully, instead of being all white and icky, it can turn pinkish looking and normal.

**2:50 p.m.**

That didn't work. How was I supposed to know it would turn half my face red?

**2:51 p.m.**

Don't panic. Don't panic.

**2:52 p.m.**

Stop panicking.

**2:54 p.m.**

Maybe if I smear it around a bit my whole face will be normal colored!

**2:56 p.m.**

No it won't. Merde. Now it's all beige. I look like one of those mimes we saw in la belle France that were pretending to juggle my nunga-nungas.

**2:59 p.m.**

Don't think about that.

**3:01 p.m.**

Stop thinking about that!

**3:02 p.m.**

Holy flying balls of merde! It's only two hours until the Ace Gang reunites! I can't miss something I scheduled. My makeup regime must be shortened a bit.

I have an idea. What if I just ignore the mime look and accentuate my good features? Right.

**3:05 p.m.**

What ARE my good features?

**3:07 p.m.**

My eyes. Right. I can put a bit of my new eye shadow with sparkly bits on. And mascara. And… hmmm... I need to practice wearing boy entrancers. To avoid future disasters of the having-it-fall-off-in-my-hand type.

**3:10 p.m.**

Where in Our Lord Sandra's voluminous green knickers are my boy entrancers? I was SURE I had at least two more sets on my cabinet…

**3:43 p.m.**

Ohmygod. Please don't tell me Gordy ate them as well.

**3:56 p.m.**

Stupid cat. Why did I make Libby force mum to keep him anyway? I'll just have to skip the boy entrancers for now. Just a dab of lippy and I'm done.

**4:07 p.m.**

A thousand curses on whoever decided to stop the buses from running today. It's bloody nippy noodles out. And I'm only wearing my cute little V-necked top. And my most faithful nunga-nunga holder. Brrrr…

**5:03 p.m.**

Finally got through the Arctic wilderness full of snows and polar bears, (i.e. England in June.) Met up with ace gang at homework club (i.e. the clock tower). Preformed small burst of "Let's Go Down to the Disco" which ended rather quickly when Rosie hit me over the head with her penguin-umbrella. I don't ever want to know what goes on in her mind.

After a few cheesy snacks were passed around, courtesy of Jools, I explained why I had called the meeting to order. I told them all about Masimo, Robbie, and Dave the Laugh. It was such a relief to let it all out that I collapsed into hysterical giggles every five minutes or so, but it was worth it. They were agog as two gogs.

When I had finished, Rosie said "Phwoar."

There was a long silence. I said, "So what do you think I should do?"

The long silence continued.

Rosie said, "Phwoar," again.

Everyone else shifted uncomfortably like the goosegogs they are. Finally Jas spoke up.

"Stop flirting with Dave. He's Ellen's ex. What kind of a mate goes out with her friends' ex-boyfriends? I think you should just listen to what Masimo has to say. If he tells you he likes you, go out with him. If not, don't worry, you have Robbie."

But then Jools said, "Masimo is a homosexual tosser with a handbag. You don't need him."

Rosie said, "Dave seems quite taken with you."

Hmmmm.. Good point, well made.

So really, if anything, they have officially confused me even more.

**in my room**

**7:30 p.m.**

Lying in my bed of pain. Thinking. Again. How can Masimo possibly like Wet Lindsay? And more to the point, why does she ALWAYS seem to be my only competition for whichever boy I happen to fancy? She's like a reverse-stalker. In a skirt.

**7:32 p.m.**

And Robbie… he ditched me for wombats. How can I allow myself to be entranced by his Sex Godly ways again?

**7:33 p.m.**

I can't, that's how.

**7:34 p.m.**

And being Jas' sister in law or whatever it is doesn't really appeal to me. I can see us now- Hunky and Po leading the Sex God and his wife through the woodlands of England (i.e. the Jennings' backyard), examining bits of cuckoo spit, while the Sex God and his wife sing a song about cows from his unreleased album and he plays his guitar.

**7:37 p.m.**

No, that simply wouldn't do. I am, henceforth, eschewing him with a firm hand. Robbie is dead to me. Forever. Or at least, until Tom brings him up again.

**7:46 p.m.**

But I really really really like Dave. He is so funny and sweet and he seems to like me too.

**7:52 p.m.**

Plus, without him, I would never be exposed to the joys of nip libbling.

**7:59 p.m.**

Maybe I should just say no to Masimo and go out with Dave instead?

**8 p.m.**

But he doesn't have jeloidosity!

**8:24 p.m.**

But he is double cool with knobs. And the lead singer of the Stiff Dylans.

**8:30 p.m.**

Why can't we all just live in peace?

**9 p.m.**

I think I'll just listen to what Masimo has to say and if he says no, I'll talk to Dave.

**9:32 p.m.**

Not Libby again. And not all of her little fwends. And what is that she's holding? Sacre Bleu!

"NO LIBBY! BAD LIBBS! STOP! DO NOT PUT MR. BOB THE MUSHROOM IN MY BED! NO!"

"Hush up, bad boy. I am not happy with you. Move over. Make room. Good Gingey. Sit down where I can see you. Now go to sleep."

I am a mad toddler's toy. This cannot be good for my future career as a heavily made-up backup dancer. I may have to get serious counseling from some bearded bloke in goatskin trousers because of the traumatic experiences I have had in my youth (i.e. knowing Libby).

**Sunday June 19**

**still in my bed of pain**

**1:18 p.m.**

Up at the crack of… Dear Lord Sandra, I cannot have possibly slept for 16 hours!

**1:58 p.m.**

I have the imprint of a portabella mushroom named Bob in my cheek. There is something seriously wrong with my little sister.

**2:35 p.m.**

Stared out of my window for ages and ages, waiting for Masimo to come by. Nothing came by except for Mark the Big Gob and his astonishingly pervy mates. He leered up at me and waggled his chest about. There must be some way for him to fall off of a very steep cliff or something so I never have to look at him again. Should I call him? (Masimo, not Mark, you twit.)

**2:45 p.m.**

No, he said he would tell me sometime this week. Oh, it's the bloody spectacular waiting game again. How I love this world we live in.

**3:00 p.m.**

Phone rang. I practically ripped the phone off the wall, thinking it was Masimo. It wasn't. It was Ellen. She wanted to know if she should try and get back with Dave now that he has dumped Rachel.

I said, "Erm, well, it really depends if you and he.. you know… and you might not want to do that because he is… I mean you are… the dumpee… and you know, it might not-"

"Yes, but do you think I should?"

"Look, Ellen, I really don't know, because he… you… not really together anymore and Rachel-"

"Yes, but do you think I should?"

"No."

"Alright then, thank you, you have no idea how much your advice means to me, Gee."

And she rang off.

How groovy is that? I have gotten rid of one of my problems in one go!

**3:30 p.m.**

I feel kind of awful now, though. Called Ellen back.

"Ellen?"  
"Gee!"

"Well, I suppose you _could _try and get back together with him. If you wanted to, that is. And if he-"

"Thank you! I'll go call him then. See you in Stalag Fourteen."

**3:35 p.m.**

Triple merde. And poo. Georgia Nicolson is le grande idiot. On the other foot, she is a very very very good mate.

**4 p.m.**

Oh, MERDE. Just realized that there is un petite fly in the ointomosity of the moment. What if Ellen tells Radio Jas that I told her to get back together with Dave and he finds out through her?

**4:01 p.m.**

Rang Ellen in a frenzy to tell her that it may be a bad idea to ask Dave back out. Line was busy. I am truly about to go ballisiticisimus.

**5 p.m.**

Ellen called. She was crying and snorting and choking about. Going on and on about how Dave said no and how boys are really these awful, evil devil-type creatures inside of normal pink(ish) skin who only exist to upset girls. I think she has finally cracked.

**6 p.m.**

Still, at least now there isn't any immediate danger to me.

**6:04 p.m.**

That was a selfish, selfish thing to say. I will punish myself by doing my Blodggers homework.

**6:48 p.m.**

Vati walked in while I was working. He pretended to faint in surprise.

And then he fell over.

Libby and Mutti came running when they heard the crash. The three of us kept spluttering about, trying not to laugh, while he cursed and muttered about being in pain and women knowing their place in the family.

Finally, he roared off in his hilarious Robin Reliant because he "needed some time alone." I love this house.

**9:49 p.m.**

All aloney on my owney. And it's back to the hellhole we call Stalag 14 tomorrow. Oh, flying balls of merde.

**Friday, June 24**

**walking home**

**4:32 p.m.**

This is torture. Masimo has definitely taken his time in getting back to me. He said "I will see you in a week."

**4:42 p.m.**

Oh, good lord. That's a bit like "later."

**4:58 p.m.**

Started walking along impersonating Jas- that is, swinging my hips around a lot, fingering my nonexistent fringe, and bending down every ten seconds or so to examine the nonexistent wildlife at my feet.

**4:09 p.m.**

OHMYGOD. MASIMO. On his scooter. In his gorgey Italian coat and shoes. With a face, hands, legs, and even two feet. Coming towards me. While I am bent over, fingering my nonexistent fringe, with a piece of grass in my hand. Hahahaha. Why does he always seem to catch me at such inopportune moments? I must be brave and hide my inner sorrows, so that I may be spoken to by the well known Italian transvestite with a handbag. Ohohoho, Dave, get out of my head!

Masimo got off of his scooter. And took off his helmet. And walked towards me.

"Georgia. I have been thinking about you all week. I have come to tell you what I have been deciding."  
My heart leapt up into my mouth and I found I couldn't breathe. Open your mouth, Georgia and suck air in. Open it. Why is this not working?

"You are really a great girl. But I was not sure whether I can really be with you because Lindsay is a really great girl too. She told me about you, and she said that you were immature and that I should not spend time with you. But I, how you say, I broke off with Lindsay yesterday. And I have come to tell you that I can be your boyfriend."  
He leaned in to kiss me. But I found I still couldn't breathe. When his lips were only several centimeters from mine, I leaned back sharply.

"What is wrong?"  
I tried to speak but my mouth wasn't working. Finally I got out my usual string of gibberish, "I can't… Dave… pants."

WHAT? DAVE? I was about to break up with MASIMO for DAVE? Why didn't my brain inform me of this earlier? Things would have been SO much easier.

Masimo looked at me like I was a twit of the first water. "Pants?"

"It's… I have to go."  
"So, Signorina Georgia, I take this mean we're not, how you say, an item?"

"No, I'm sorry. Maybe next time?" Oh, Mon Dieu, what was I going on about?

"I see. Arrividerci, Georgia."

I stretched up to kiss him but he was already walking away. Masimo got on his scooter and revved off, a cloud of dust spiraling out behind him.

**4:15 p.m.**

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

**4:20 p.m.**

Ellen is going to KILL me.

**4:30 p.m.**

I don't care.

**5:00 p.m.**

Was on my doorstep when I reversed direction.

**5:04 p.m.**

Rang doorbell to Dave's house. After hearing unintelligible yelling and clanging for a few minutes, he finally appeared with a rubber axe in his hand. I won't even ask.

"Sex Kitty!"

"Dave."

"Come in!"

Walked into his kitchen where quite a few sparkly gelpens and some soda cans were lying about. As well as a fake sword. I love this guy.

He sat me down in a really squishy barstool in front of their table and gave me a cookie.

"What did the homosexual tosser with a purse say to you?"  
"Well, you see, he said, he, well, said, that he dumped Wet- I mean, Lindsay- for me-"

At this point Dave's expression lost about twenty of its happy-points and he slumped in his stool.

"But… I… said that I was, well, that I liked you."

Dave leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. (!) And even though it wasn't jelloidish or dreamboaty, it was still very very nice. And he didn't even try to put his hand on my nunga.

**8:49 p.m.**

Scratch that. He has now put his hand on my nunga.

**10:00 p.m.**

I AM NOW THE GIRLFRIEND OF DAVE THE LAUGH! (And I have gotten to 6 and ¼ with him! Several times) as well as a bit of 8. I suppose I must invent a new number: 7.5 nunga nunga molesting. Which is quickly stopped by the owner of the nunga. Ah, the joys of life.

When Dave walked me home (which was totally unnecessary, but rather nice all the same), Mutti looked at me skeptically for about an hour.

She said, "What happened to the nice Italian boy?"

"I like this one better."

She hugged me. I ran away quickly in case of emergence on the nunga-nunga front (FOR HER, NOT ME), but it was a good gesture.

**10:04 p.m.**

Called Jas. Her father picked up, but being a nice father, he didn't mind the late hour. She came over to the phone twenty million years later.

"GEORGIA!"

"JAS! How did you know it was me?"

"Because if you paid attention to normal things instead of the useless rubbish your mind is always full of, you would realize that it is ten o' four. At night. And nobody else would call our house at ten o'four. At night."

"Do you promise not to go over all Po-ish if I tell you something?"  
"Just go on, I'm tired, and Tom and I are going on an early ramble tomorrow."  
"Fine. I am now the girlfriend of Dave the Laugh!"

"WHAT? You awful, awful person. On the other hand, he is quite nice. And fit."  
"Jas?"  
I could hear her humming a funeral march on the other end.

"JAS."  
"Don't raise your voice, I can hear you just fine."  
"Are you okay? You don't think that I am evil for going out with my friend's ex-boyfriend?"  
"No, not really."

The funeral march mutated into something uncomfortably close to Three Blind Mice- Libby style.

"You're sure you don't mind?"  
"Yes, now can I please go to bed?"  
"Of course, my little pally."  
She slammed the phone down.

**11:34 p.m.**

I have broken up with the Italian Dreamboat and will never speak to the Sex God again, but I will always have PANTS.

THE END! (A.N. hope you liked it! Comment please!)


End file.
